Memories of mushroom war
by cheeselord
Summary: One day I had an Adventure Time overdose and I was just humming the intro song all day long and laughing like an idiot. Eventually it turned into a marvelous Finnceline fanfiction thing... but it isn't this thing you are about to read because the silly me decided to sidetrack a little into the past of the Ice King and Marceline. A little angsty but not too much I hope
1. Daddy Hunson

**As I always say in a matter of sorry/bare with me/ I dont care what you say, way: English is my second language and even in my natal spanish I can really suck at grammar. But from time to time i start thinking and making a story in english instead of spanish and the fear of having crappy english is not something that stops me from posting it. But above all I have in great esteem the quality of my work so i will try to do it at the best of my habilities.  
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_Daddy why did you need to go?_

It was crazy and stupid but above all it was surreal, he though while watching the fires that have been raging for months and the strange peace silence brought in that wasteland, the screaming had diminished and now there were no armies and no war machines marching on the streets creating a ruckus the only thing that remained walking through the debris was he, the child in hiss toll and just the usually scared passerby that resembled the so figurative rat scrambling through the trash for food and shelter. Don't get him wrong, he wasn't displeased with the chaos the humans were making without his help, since their dawn that was one of the best things they knew how to make, and that was why he favored them. It could be said that he loved and cherished them in his own twisted way. But what fun was a world that didn't needed demons to create suffering and chaos? What was the purpose of staying in there? After the bombs created hell on earth, there was no point in trying to recreate his netherworld on that plane of existance. He needed to retire for now, give them time to organize and maybe they would learn to stay alive and not tear at each other's throat for enough time for them to grow strong once more, he had time to wait for the earth to heal, monstrous scars would be left behind but at the end it would heal and if the terribly obnoxious humans didn't survived he would have lost his funniest toys to this day but eventually new creatures would emerge, what kind of creatures he didn't knew but he hoped that they were a little more conscious of their fragile nature and learn from the mistakes of their predecessors, striving for peace and harmony and once again he will have toys and a playground to play. It would be not fun if this chapter of history was repeated once again. Grabbing his immortal spawn by the hand he leaded her to their home; a building that was in a less destroyed state that the rest.

-Daddy, Hambo says that those people makes him scared-

Well aware of the hungry eyes lurking from the shadows he didn't mind them. Always the distrustful humans, now pushed to the limit, hunted the weak and the naïve needing nothing more that a hunch that others had more things, more water or food that them and at the very least thinking that without another mouth to feed the chances for them to survive would go up. Such naive, idiotic thoughts. Luckily for them, they were not utter fools; they identified him from something other than human. Accustomed to the last days of the war were some soldiers were "enhanced" and even now and then a rare mutation would segregate a group of humans from the rest, a own race in their own accord, they ignored his status as a demon and he could walk freely without raising suspicions . At the other hand, ignoring his status as lord of chaos made them brave and sometimes reckless.

-Nothing to be scared of my little girl- A rare smile appeared in his face to comfort the child beside him. They would end dead before they touched his impeccable black suit and sooner if they made a move towards his daughter. The raven haired, pale skinned, pointy eared child only nodded with a smile of her own, whispering to his stuffed toy something between the lines of "I told you daddy would protect us"

-Mommy!- Cried the said child minutes later as she unhooked herself from his strong hand and ran to the dressed in red silhouette on the distance. Vampires are such a dramatic beings, he though as he saw his partner against the dim light the sun hiding behind toxic clouds produced.

-Marcie, go to your room to play sweetie- He heard as he approached. Room was a gentle way to name the ruins in which she lived. –Daddy and I need to talk-

-I feared so- he whispered as she send a glare to him, only succeeding on making the smile in his face larger.

Ignoring that last fact she guided the demon lord to a kitchen that was mostly intact, with the exception of a pieces of roof that were now laying in the floor.

-I need to stay here- she let out the moment they both took seats in the sturdy chairs

-We have already talked about this, you´re free to do whatever you like-

To humans it was easy to say they would stay together a lifetime, their short life spam made it easier to babble a few words and compromise and even then they would break such promise. Immortal beings like them didn't got married, they just united for a time, rarely breeding a child and sometimes the couple would stay together for the protection and development of their offspring powers. It was a miracle in itself that he had stayed so long with this female, maybe it was because they understood each other so much.

-Marceline will stay with me-

-What? She is also my child!- This was a new topic in the exausted talking they have been having for months. He was well aware of her vampire pride and all that crap about not retreating but risking their daughter was a different theme that was making him angry.

-I was not asking. Marceline WILL stay! – the volume of her voice raised a little.

-You know there is nothing left for her here, she isn't even a pure blood vampire!-

-That is exactly the reason why!-

-I could take her to the nightosphere, there she will be safer!- Now it was just plain screaming at each other.

-You know that is a lie. A child would not survive a week in that hell-hole you call kingdom!-

-That hell-hole is also your home and rightful place!-

-First I was a human and then a vampire; this is my only home, even if now it resembles yours!-

There was a pause. At the distance he could hear her daughter playing with Hambo, the teddy thing that her mother sew for her.

-She is well aware of your parting and this screaming doesn't exactly help to conceal it-

-I know, our daughter is nothing like that good for nothing noble child vampires that have spaghetti for brains- At this she smiled, a hint of "I know" could be read in her eyes- But I can't postpone it much longer, the nightosphere would consume itself without a leader to control its chaos energies and my mere presence in this fragile world is affecting it-

-You could visit her-

-I will visit you both-

-… She will miss you-

- I doubt it, she adores you-

-A daughter always love his father, even if it is in secret-

-So this is farewell-

-A goodbye. I don't think I would see you in some centuries-

-Centuries are nothing to us- A sad tone was concealed in his voice, a tone that she didn't failed to hear.

-Don't worry, I will take care of her, teach her and make her strong-

-She is a princess, spawn of the vampire queen and the ruler of the nightosphere, she doesn't need to be taken care off-

-Princess of backstabbing vampires and a half breed shunned by everyone. Yes she is powerful even as a child, but immortality is such a long time to wander through it alone and sheer power is not always the answer. That is what you fail to see-

-… Sorry, chaotic thoughts on a chaotic being tend to make it short sighted- He gave her one crooked smile.

-You are too stubborn, that's the problem- her cold hand raised to touch his cheek, a last caress before parting and maybe never reuniting. Their exchange of words was over.

He steeled himself. Even as a demon leaving his underage, underpowered offspring made him a little weak on the knees. He kissed goodbye to the vampire queen and without another word leaved the kitchen.

-Marcie, baby, I need to go now-

-I know dad, when will you return?- She didn't even stopped playing with Hambo and another doll as his father was saying goodbye. Many times he had gone for some days and even weeks or months.

-I don't know, maybe a few years latter-

- Ok- This noticeably saddened her, Hambo stopped what seemed like a strange tea party chit-chat with Marceline. Her "Daddy" never left for so much time.

-Mommy will take you with her family-

-I don't like them-

He chuckled –I know darling but bear with it, I promise I will brought fries for you the next time I come- at this point he ruffled his little daughter hair.

-Really Daddy, you know I love fries! And we all could eat them together- A sudden smile appeared on her lips, the parting completely forgotten, and that happy face brought more pleasure and happiness to him than the chaos the humans unleashed a few months back- But don't forget to bring ketchup, last time it wasn't enough- a cute frown was reflected in her face.

-Je, of course my darling-

-And Hambo, could he eat some too? He also loves fries- The said purple animal-thing was raised in her little chubby hands.

-I would not want it in any other way-

-Daddy, I love you- The little vampire hugged the legs of the lord of chaos, of an immortal demon, of Hunson Abadeer. Of her father.

Suddenly he found out his voice failing him as he hugged back his daughter and whispered a softly I love you too princess through cracked words. Then he parted with her creating a portal a few steps away, passing besides the Vampire Queen who teased with a whispered "softie" a sad smile in her face, and walked into the portal.

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**I have originally tough as this as a three-shot fic focusing in Marceline family, the Ice King and maybe the whereabouts of the last humans. WARNING: The amout of one shots may vary depending on the whines of the autor.**

**Also, I dont excpect for a betareader to come knocking at my door, but it will be nice that if you read this and grammar makes you say "the f#ck?" a little help would be apreciated cause the problem is that i fail to see the problem and a second pair of eyes would help a lot. But you dont really have to do it, nop, at the end it is you who are reading this and dont understand a word of what im typing... here fellows, have a smiling face :)  
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	2. Cold Winds: Winter Breeze

**So, as you can probably see this is the second chapter I wrote. In the future I will be posting more of the story of Marceline... its only that I think the Ice King needs a part of the show, his background being a little dark and creepy and... pre-Mushroom war?**

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_Winter Breeze_

Simon Petrikov turned off the camera. The very touch of the Crown brought shivers to his spine, making him tremble a little and dread the touch of the cold metal. Something deep down in the corners of his subconscious yelled to him that the crown was a dangerous item, that he should just throw it away and be done with it but another part of him, the most rational one, searched fanatically for answers because a non-living thing could not have a will of its own, urging him to keep the crown and unveil the mysteries it keep as the antiquary curiosity spirit in him demanded to know the reasons, trying to convince himself that magical items that corrupted and controlled its wielders were only a product of fantasy, a way to bring human flaws to a more material plane like fables and kid tales where a thing or a mythological beast impersonated a virtue or a vice, inquiring the possible physical or biological elements that made him lose his head. Other part of him, the part that scared him the most, whispered in soft, sweet, almost unnoticeable voices to keep the crown, not for studies, not to understand it, it only whispered that it needed him and that in return it would keep him safe.

Suddenly remembering the irrational fear he had of the crown Simon placed it back into the safe box, closed the thick metal doors a little too quickly and secured the chains and the safe, reprimanding himself soon after for such childish antiques. He was a man of facts and unless there was real, irrefutable facts of the power it supposedly had there was no reason to dispose or fear the crown… but he could not ignore that as an antiquary he knew a lot of legends involving some special objects, of the curses they held and the effects on the humans that came in contact with them and the tugging of his mind, signaling that was the case. Had he come in contact with one of these rare objects? If not what caused Betty to fear him? He concluded this tugging was just the confusion that came as an aftereffect of the sudden changes in his normally tranquil life.

Leaving the room where he kept the important antiques, Simmon walked into his kitchen feeling somewhat a relief leaving the crown back there. That accursed crown that had took his love away. It wasn't even a month without her and that house already felt empty, so very empty. Every room held a memory, a happy memory or even a sad one of his love and the moments together. Entering the kitchen he let out a sigh, so much of these sighs he was letting out that it almost seemed like a tic or the language he was speaking now. The kitchen although the warmest place in the little department he and Betty shared now seemed cold with only him walking its corridors. Also it was Betty the culinary genius between the two of them. She would ask him to do easy tasks while she was cooking, directing him so the work was shared, but in the end she was the one to combine all the right ingredients and the work so the food tasted delicious. Now he was forced to eat trash food and instant soups as his last effort in cooking ended with a dark crispy burned formless and tasteless thing that made him sick. He was such a mess. He had to take her back, to win her hearth again and to make her see that he was still the man she loved. But how? She wasn't answering her phone, her friends will not say where she was and even her parents talked to him, threatening to take legal measures if he as much as walked 10 meters near her. He never had many friends to begin with and now that he needed an ear to hear him he found himself alone, his few strange friends thousands of miles away from him and that accursed place where he decided to move with Betty. Letting another heavy sigh he took a recipient and poured water in it, waiting for it to warm in the stove and then pouring it into the shrimp less shrimp savored soup, deciding he wanted to eat on his favorite couch in front of his working desk.

-The problem is that crown- he reasoned out loud not caring if the eavesdropper neighbors would hear him. He had to know more of that crown in order to set things right. Such a rare thing it was, never in his life as an investigator of the ancient had he heard of that thing. Not in any legend or mythology or even fairy tale. There were lots of crowns but this one in particular was a complete mystery. Also, why the sailor that sold it to him didn't showed some of the supposedly effects of it, not even the fear and need to get rid of it, he even showed himself a little too willingly to negotiate a higher price like the opportunist rascal that he surely was. Was he the so recurred figure in mythology; the chosen one, the wielder? Maybe it was indeed a terrible item, their possessors never finding a way to destroy it so they chose to erase its memory from history and the lore; it was a possibility like Rome erased Cartago a simple item would be easier to disappear from the public eye or for any document of it to be destroyed by human hands or the time. If that was the case, then those people really feared the crown and he was stuck up, starting an investigation from cero with little or non-possibilities to find something that shed light to the mystery of the crown but the crown itself in its mad whispers. Maybe it was just his imagination, maybe he wasn't right in his head and all of this was a twisted joke that his subconscious played to torture him. He had heard stories of people who did horrible things, conscious or unconscious of them, blaming another personality, another being inhabiting the same body, whispering and even commanding to do the most outrageous things. Either the case; possessed by a crown spirit or simply crazy, he would not be able to see Betty again.

He let another sigh, there was not purpose in tangling himself in those thoughts, blowing a little air in the soup and then proceeded to eat his "gourmet" food. Finding it a little too warm for his taste he let it cold down a little more entertaining himself while sketching absentmindedly some things in the white paper that was laying in his desk, suddenly he realized the things that he was drawing: a face, some silly boat and a crown… and then another crown and the third drabble, the one he stopped himself from doing, was taking the shape of a crown. Angry at himself he made a paper ball out of the offending sheet and threw it in the trash can, missing the mark because the sheer strength which he tossed it.

He tasted his soup again. "_Still hot"_ he though bitterly and decided his appetite was gone. Leaving everything as it was he went to the door and reached for his scarf that was hanged at the entrance.

"_**Maybe a little cold air would do me good"**_

He didn't measured the time he walked in the snowy street neither the faces he saw and he avoided at all cost to think about Betty or the crown or his life crossroad dilemma or of anything at all. He just needed to take all that crazy, confusing thoughts out of his head and as moronic it sounded, walk away from them. He needed, if only for a few minutes, for the root of all his complications to disappear; he needed to cease to exist for a brief time, out of consciousness out of the normal flow of time. His non-thinking suddenly interrupted by stumbling over a pile of snow. He extended his hands as to make sure this wasn't another hallucination _**"When had it started to snow?"**_

Blinking a few times for his eyes to focus and get the cold out of them he realized the sunlight had disappeared and now the artificial light of light bulbs where lighting his way over the now falling snowflakes and, as in waiting for this cue, other realizations started to flow to his now conscious brain. His legs were very sore and tired being a miracle that he still walked and that a car hadn't ran over him, also he wasn't very far away from his home; he had been walking in circles. But the most evident change his now conscious brain detected was the change in temperature. How in the world he was outside in just normal clothes and a scarf when the other people on the street had some heavy jackets to keep away the cold? Shivering a little he adjusted his scarf and hurried to his home. Apparently walking was not such a good idea and walking without thinking was an awfully bad idea.

Things were starting to get strange, disrupting his simple but happy life. Now his existence resembled one psychological thriller or a labyrinth he couldn't figure out as he seated once more on his couch, in his warm house and let out another sigh, the swarming thoughts and feelings now invading his head and contributing to form a headache. The grumbling of his stomach made him know this time he was certainly hungry and the only thing available was that cold soup standing right in front of him. Shrugging his shoulders he made a move to take the soup and eat it. How low had he fallen to eat cold tasteless, shrimp-less soup? Finishing his miserable dinner he made his way to the very bedroom he shared with his lost love and put himself into bed, not sure if going to thank it was the end of the day or to curse the start of the night.

-Maybe tomorrow will be better- he whispered to no one.

That night, as the ones before, the dreams of Simon Petrikov where anything but normal. They were filled with whispers, so many and in so many different voices it could make anyone loose his sanity. There was also a great darkness that which is only found in the deserted caves that run deep into the earth. But the most noticeable thing was the cold, the freezing cold he felt embracing his body and chasing away any thought other than the need to become warmer. In the morning, as all the mornings before, all he would remember would be fighting on, trying not to succumb to the numbness that was begging for him to give up while the word "futile" was being repeated one time and another and another and infinite times, undermining his will and morale: mocking his attempts to prevail until he begged for mercy. He begged for it to stop, to leave him alone, to go away and to not hurt him; to be gone and to take all the pain and the cold and the loneliness with it. And above all he begged for it to return to him his Betty, his princes and to let him embrace her once more and feel the warm of her skin. At this point the voice only laughed maniacally and retorted that only Kings and princes could have princesses and he was no King. That he needed it to survive, to embrace the cold and the freeze and the ice to obtain authority and power, then he would be King, a great one, deserving anything his hearth wanted even the return of his beloved princess.

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**Imagine something deep and breathtaking in between the parentesis (:P)  
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